


Appreciate Me

by AlexTheShipper



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Stiles, Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Emotional Hurt, Fae & Fairies, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Non-binary Fae, Pack Dynamics, Pre-Slash, Stiles Stilinski is Pushed Out of the Pack, The Pack Being Idiots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22369111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexTheShipper/pseuds/AlexTheShipper
Summary: Stiles is the most powerful Spark in a century, in the last year he's turned down dozens of offers to join other packs, and yet his own pack keeps disrespecting him. Pushed to his limit Stiles decides to take a temporary break from the pack, but will he want to come back.
Relationships: pre Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 144
Kudos: 1060
Collections: Awesome stories





	1. Coven like Friendship

“Dibs on the chair!” Erica called out, practically vaulting the couch to get to it. Isaac running right behind her.

“You had it last week it’s my turn.” Isaac whines, too slow to get into the seat before Erica. She grins triumphantly at them.

“Too bad, dibs is a dibs.” She states, and Isaac pouts, slumping onto the couch. “Boyd, come sit with me.” Boyd looks at the chair, and then raises an eyebrow at her. “Come on, sit on my lap don’t be shy.” Stiles snorts a laugh.

“You know I should really get the chair.” Stiles points out, his ankle still aches from last week when he saved Jackson from getting murdered by a Lamia. He might have sprained it, although he never went to the hospital to check.

“Why is that Stilinski?” Jackson asks, always a dick when given the opportunity. He’s attempting to challenge Stiles, which is obnoxious.

“Maybe because I sprained my ankle saving your sorry ass from a Lamia.” Stiles gestures wildly at Jackson who makes a face before deciding that saving someone’s life does not exclude you from being mocked.

“Aw the poor wittle hooman hurt his foot.” Jackson coo’s teasingly, and the room laughs. “Poor wittle hooman can’t heal.”

“You’re such a dick.” Stiles says, because it’s true. Everyone’s still snickering at him, and he’s tired of being in this position, the butt of the joke. “You guys don’t appreciate my value, packs around the globe want a piece of this and here you are mocking me.” He gestures to his body, as if that was why packs would want him, and Scott nearly chokes on a laugh.

“Sure, they do Stiles.” Jackson scoffs, and something inside of Stiles aches. “Our pack barely wants you.” The pack laughs at him then, which is to be expected, it hurts. More than that the laughter escaping Scott hurts.

“You guys love me.” He says, and hopes like hell he sounds more confident than he feels. Jackson laughs again, and something inside of him breaks.

“I want to watch a movie.” Erica declares once the giggles had died down, and Stiles watches as the conversation moves on around him. For the first time since joining the pack officially he feels completely alone.

He feels stuck thinking about it, feels as though the sound of their laughter is still echoing in his ears. Somehow despite all of his hard work, despite all the power he has gathered at his fingertips in the last year the pack has never stopped seeing him as the weakest link. It doesn’t matter that he could beat any one of them in a fight, he’s still weak human Stilinski.

“We are not watching The Notebook.” Jackson states, with just a hint of a growl in his voice. It’s an argument they’ve all been a part of too many times to expect him to win it. It’s a lost cause, Lydia is staring down at him with determination etched into her eyes. Stiles watches the stare down absently pulling out his phone and opening up his email.

It’s full of messages from packs across the continent, and a few based in Europe asking for his help, or for him. Some subject lines jump out at him immediately.

_Emmisary needed_

_Help please_

_Spark Stilinski we request aide on behalf of our coven_

_Spark Stilinski we request help on behalf of our pack_

_Spark Stilinski please help_

_My brood requires aide_

_Mysterious creature_

_Emmisary needed for our pack, please Spark Stilinski_

“I’m putting on The Notebook so we can end this stupid staring contest.” Scott declares, grabbing the movie. He sounds about as excited about the prospect as Jackson is. Stiles taps on one of the emails.

_Dear Spark Stilinski we request aide on behalf of our pack,_

_There have been 4 drowning related deaths in and around our lands, we believe some sort of water spirit is at fault, attached is everything we know, if you could take a look and help us out we would be most grateful._

_Coven leader,_

_Carla Rona._

“Thank you, Scott.” Lydia says, settling onto the loveseat. Stiles finger hovers over the reply button, a message about coming to help forming in his head. Scott drops into the seat next to him, and he backs out preparing to watch the notebook again. Later, at home he’ll look at the evidence and message them with any information he can find.

For now, for now he has a movie to re-watch with his pack.

Stiles picks up his phone to find two missed texts from Derek.

_Harpy in the preserve._

_Going to investigate._

Stiles pack is full of idiots, and led by an even bigger idiot. Harpy versus werewolf is not a fight that the werewolf wins, which all means that Stiles is throwing his baseball bat into the passenger seat and peeling out of the driveway faster than is safe.

He parks on the edge of the preserve, grabs his baseball bat and takes off running magic at his fingertips as he pushes himself to move quickly and silently through the woods. 

“This is Hale Pack land.” Derek growls, dodging out of the way of the Harpy. His cheek is bleeding sluggishly and Stiles can see multiple claw marks along his torso. The Harpy doesn’t seem to be in the mood for talking, screeching in the Alpha’s face as it dives at him, talons extended.

“Duck!” Stiles yells, and a burst of fire startles the Harpy as Derek hits the ground, rolling towards Stiles.

“What are you doing here?” Derek growls, which is definitely not a thank you. Stiles launches a spell at the harpy and dodges her talons, turning to give Derek an incredulous look.

“What am I doing here? Oh, nothing I was just out for a stroll in the creepy evil forest.” He spits sarcastically. The harpy barrels towards them uncaring of their argument, and Derek shoves him out of the way. Stiles head cracks painfully against a tree. “What do you think I’m doing here?”

“Being an idiot.” Derek replies, and Stiles is so fucking done with the disrespect. A wall of fire flares up in front of the harpy with a wave of his hand.

“Funny I thought that title was reserved for alpha wolves who went to fight harpy’s alone in the woods.” Stiles spits, hands digging into the earth as he sets the fire at the harpy’s feet on fire.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Derek growls, and suddenly he’s roughly yanking Stiles out of the way grip so tight it’s going to bruise.

“Neither should you, dumbass.” The harpy is barreling towards him, shrieking, he turns to face her a ball of fire forming in his hands. Derek throws himself at Stiles, just as Stiles throws the fireball having to adjust midfall to ensure it hits his target.

“I’m a werewolf.” Derek states, as if that is some sort of argument. Stiles isn’t sure what his point it but he’s definitely failing to prove it. Stiles can barely hear him as the harpy shrieks itself to death.

“Wow, I had no idea.” Stiles remarks, walking towards the smoldering remains of the harpy. Derek’s hand jerks out stopping him in his path, and Stiles is burning with fury at the way he’s been treated.

“I heal, you don’t.” Derek declares, and Stiles is done, turning back towards his jeep.

“You can’t heal from death Derek.” Stiles declares, not looking at the wolf as he walks towards his car. “I came here to help, I killed it, you gave me a concussion. I’m sorry your manly man alpha werewolf feelings are hurt at getting shown up by the magic human but you need to get the fuck over yourself.” He’s stomping through the underbrush.

“Stiles.” Derek starts, and then stops. Stiles waits, for an apology, or a thank you. There’s nothing and Stiles is suddenly and abruptly done.

“I’ll see you in a few weeks Derek.” He decides, and suddenly Derek is jogging to keep up with him. “Make sure you deal with the body.”

“Where are you going?” Derek asks, and Stiles whips around pointing at Derek.

“I am going somewhere that I will be treated with a modicum of the respect I deserve.” Stiles hisses, turning to glare at Derek finger digging into the man’s chest. “This may come as a surprise to you but there are packs out there who have begged me to be their emissary.” Derek goes painfully still.

“You’re our pack.” Derek declares and Stiles scowls at him.

“I know.” He says. “You’re lucky I don’t have enough self-respect to leave you all permanently.” The word yet dances on the tip of his tongue but he can’t make himself say it. “I’ll be back, consider figuring out how to at least pretend you respect me by the time I am.” He pulls out his phone then, dialing Coven Leader Rona as he walks.

“Stiles.” Derek whispers behind him, and he sounds hurt.

“Two weeks Derek sort your shit.” Stiles calls over his shoulder, the phone rings twice, and then there’s a soft click as someone picks up. Stiles casts a quick silencing spell so Derek can’t eavesdrop. 

“Hello, this is Carla Rona, how can I help you.” A cheerful voice asks.

“This is Spark Stilinski of the Hale Pack I received an email from you about a possible water spirit on your land.” Stiles says, he can no longer hear Derek walking behind him.

“Yes Spark Stilinski, this is Coven Leader Rona, have you learned anything since your last email?” She asks, and there’s a hint of desperation in her voice.

“I have not, I know it is a water spirit but without visiting it’s difficult to determine which one.” He explains, and a frustrated sigh sounds down the line. “I could visit and help you deal with the spirit once it’s identified.” He catches the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he climbs into the car, shooting one last glare at the woods.

“That would be such a great help Spark Stilinski, how soon could you be here?” Carla’s tone speaks of relief, he starts the car.

“Two hours if your coven is capable of preparing the sigils for a magical landing pad.” He says, putting the phone on speaker for the remainder of the drive.

“The Ianuae Magicae?” She asks, and he hums in agreement. “We can have that ready in a couple hours yes.” He breathes a sigh of relief; he didn’t want to have to drive all the way across the country.

“Message me as soon as it’s done.” He says, his magic seems almost at war with itself as he simultaneously craves distance from the pack and fears leaving it.

“Of course, Spark Stilinski, we look forward to seeing you.” Coven Leader Rona promises. Stiles hangs up and jumps out of the car as soon as he’s in the driveway, popping the trunk so he can grab his go bag, clothing, toothbrush, soap, and two hundred dollars all prepped to go whenever needed.

He heads into the house to grab his magical toolkit and his laptop so he can prep the Ianuae Magicae and be ready to go as soon as Coven Leader Rona messages. The whole thing takes about an hour and he’s left with chalk on his hands, and some scorch marks on his back porch, but the circle is complete and all that’s left is to wait for the message. 

By the time he’s finished his anger is starting to fade, replacing itself with self-doubt. Stiles is starting to feel like maybe he’s blowing everything out of proportion. Whether he’s making a mountain out of a mole hill or not he promised the Rona Coven that he would come and help, and two weeks will give him plenty of time to calm down and think things through.

His phone rings, Derek’s name lighting up the screen. Part of Stiles doesn’t want to answer, but knowing Derek it’s likely whatever it is is life threatening.

“Hello.” He answers, after the second ring. The line is silent for a long moment and Stiles is torn between wondering if he’s dead, and wanting to mock him for his inability to communicate.

“You can’t go.” Derek states, and Stiles feels all of that frustration rear up again.

“I’ll see you in two weeks.” He says, voice sharp. He goes to hang up, but can’t help but make a final request. “Stay safe.” His phone chimes with a text and he hangs up before stepping into the transport circle.

We have prepared for your arrival Spark Stilinski, thank you for coming to aid us.

He doesn’t reply, just reaches out with his spark, for a moment the world seems to glow brighter, and brighter until he can’t see anything and has to shut his eyes against the light. When he opens them again he’s standing in the middle of a beautiful forest on Mount Katahdin.

“Welcome to Rona Territory Spark Stilinski.” Carla Rona greets, inclining her head towards him respectfully. He returns the gesture.

“Thank you, Coven Leader Rona.” Stiles responds, thinking back to the book on visiting territories Deaton had leant him. “I, Spark Stilinski, swear to aide your coven during my time here, I shall pose no harm to any on your land, unless they pose harm to me or yours.” Coven Leader Rona smiles gently at him.

“I, Coven Leader Rona, promise you safety and protection throughout your time in our territory.” She replies, and then her posture changes, growing friendlier and less formal. “Now that formalities are out of the way, please feel free to call me Carla.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Carla, you can call me Stiles.” He steps out of the transport circle, hefting his duffel onto his shoulder. “Alpha Hale sends his regards.” He lies.

“Let him know we appreciate the aide.” Carla says, and then suddenly there’s a heavy weight wrapped around his leg.

“Hi Mister Spark Stilinski.” A little voice greets, and Stiles looks down to see blue eyes peering up from behind a mop of brown hair. “I’m Jacobi and I’m six.” Jacobi informs him.

“He’s five, and he was told not to bother the nice man.” A woman calls and Jacobi bounces over to her excitedly. Stiles can’t hide his smile.

“I’m almost six and he doesn’t mind.” Jacobi says, and he isn’t wrong. “He’s gonna help us find dad, you said so.” That hits hard, and Stiles wants to deliver, but very few water spirits leave their targets alive.

“I’m going to do my best.” Stiles says, before Jacobi’s mom can speak. “Carla, is there any way I can see the last known location of Jacobi’s dad?”

“Of course.” Carla says, and she’s leading him away from the crowd. Suddenly this trip isn’t about getting away from home for a little while it’s about helping people the way he always wanted to growing up with a Sheriff for a dad. “I’m sorry about Jacobi.” She says.

“Don’t be, losing a parent that young is devastating, and he still has hope.” Stiles says, looking out into the forest. “If we’re lucky we might be able to give him back his dad. When did he disappear?”

“He was the last, it’s been less than 24 hours.” Carla says, and as if by magic a presence appears at Stiles side. “Arthur.” Carla says, in a tone Stiles is used to hearing when Peter enters a room.

“Carla.” The strange man says, then inclines his head to Stiles. “Spark Stilinski.” Stiles looks at him, looks at the way he holds himself, and he sees Peter.

“What do you know?” Stiles asks, not accusing, just curious. Arthur does his best to look innocent, hand coming up to his chest. “Don’t play innocent I know you’re type you wouldn’t allow a threat in your territory without researching it. What do you know?” Arthur stops seemingly surprised at the lack of distrust.

“It’s not a Rusalka, as there’s no record of them being violent.” Arthur comments, giving Stiles an obvious answer. Stiles grins.

“I doubt it’s Tahoratakarar as he isn’t known to leave the sea, nor is it likely to be Melusine as no scales were found at the site of the attacks.” Stiles says, and the look on Arthur’s face could only be called grudging respect.

“It’s not a Kappa as it’s taken adults.” Arthur says, and then glances off into the woods. “It’s unlikely to be a Jengu or a Mami Wata but they can’t be ruled out definitively, they were thought to be kind and helpful spirits and are rarely seen on this side of the world.”

“Well you two seem to be getting along.” Carla remarked quietly still leading them through the woods to the site of the last disappearance.

“It can’t be a Fosse Grim as they never lure men.” Stiles points out, and Arthur looks at him considering.

“Fosse Grim is caught between two tellings, have we considered that they are both true?” Arthur offers, and Stiles hums in interest. “What if he lures all types with his music, but causes them no harm.”

“A bit of wishful thinking isn’t it.” Stiles remarks, but he can’t help but hope it’s true. “What about the Vodianoi?” Arthur stills for a moment.

“That would be,” He pauses, considering. “Unpleasant.” Which seems like just Stiles luck.

“Why?” Carla asks, pushing her way into a clearing.

“Because the Valdianoi don’t just drown you, they enslave you afterwards.” Arthur explains before Stiles has the chance. “Have you considered Niad’s?”

Stiles steps into the clearing and instantly knows that all of their theories are wrong.

“It isn’t a water spirit.” He whispers, his magic reaching out into the ground around him. “Stay very quiet.” He listens softly the sounds of bells chiming seems to flow with the wind and the tree’s rustle around him.

“No.” Arthur whispers, and Stiles is as surprised as he is. The Fae were driven out of the Appalachian over a century ago.

“I request an audience.” Stiles says, voice carrying into the clearing with authority. The wind whips around the clearing a laugh on it.

“And why should we grant you one little spark.” The voice on the wind asks, and Stiles smiles as his magic follows the sound. He pulls a seed out of his pocket and holds it in the palm of his hand.

“Because I offer you a gift.” All it takes is a bit of will and a flower blooms in his hand, created from magic, and sustained by it. Carla and Arthur gasp as a humanoid figure shimmers into existence directly in front of him.

“Given freely?” The Fae asks, and they look completely human, and yet not at all. Stiles nods, holding it out to the Fae. “And your name?” They ask.

“Not to be given today I’m afraid, but you may call me Stiles.” Stiles offers hoping for a peaceful resolution. “What can I call you?” They take the flower a look of awe on their face. 

“Little Spark you may call me whatever you like.” The Fae offers, and it sounds like flirting. Stiles smiles at the beautiful creature in front of him. “I generally go by Rosarki in this world.”

“An honor to meet your acquaintance.” Stiles said, because calling it a pleasure to meet him would be a lie.

“A pleasure to meet yours.” Rosarki purrs, sliding closer his motions too fluid to be human. Arthur takes a step back, not running, but prepared to.

“What has brought your people back to the Appalachian?” Stiles asked, aiming for curious and innocent. Rosarki still’s slightly and Stiles can see as they decide it’s time for business.

“We missed our home.” Rosarki says, and it’s the type of lie Stiles has become accustomed to, the type he speaks regularly to avoid werewolf ears. The Fae realm is home, and they may have missed it but that wasn’t why they were here.

“I’m sure, and yet you are here. What has brought you to these woods on this plane?” Stiles pushes, and Rosarki’s smile shows a hint of needle sharp teeth before suddenly they appear completely human, and completely inhuman all at once.

“The clause of our banishment was not maintained.” Rosarki admitted, impressed with the Spark’s wit.

“If I recall as long as a descendant of the original caster remains on the mountain range you couldn’t return, but they left didn’t they.” Stiles says, and glances at Carla and Arthur hoping they know who it might be. A figure steps out of the tree.

“Rosarki, why are you playing with your food?” They ask, and Carla tenses further beside him. Rosarki smiles at the newcomer.

“The Little Spark is quite bright.” They point out. Carla seems to have reached the end of her rope.

“We just want our people back.” She says, louder than she means to. Stiles doesn’t allow himself to flinch.

“Is that so witch?” The newcomer steps out of existence and appears at her shoulder. “Why should we give them to you?” Carla freezes, unable to speak. Stiles thinks.

“What drove you here, truly?” He asks Rosarki, and the sadness in their eyes becomes clearer, before being overtaken by anger.

“Humans, they have no respect for the woods, for those of us that live in them.” Rosarki says, voice dripping in disdain.

“Your forest was cut down wasn’t it?” Stiles asks, and the sadness on Rosarki’s face says it all, a story too common for those who can’t pass for human these days. “May I speak with my companions in private for a moment.”

“N-“ Rosarki’s companion begins to protest, but Rosarki dips his head.

“Of course, Spark, grow a flower when you need me.” With that both Fae disappeared, and the sound of bells quickly faded from the wind.

“Why did you send them away?” Carla growled, and Stiles could almost feel the way her hands twitched wanting to cast.

“I know how you can get your people back, but we need to write a contract, and it needs to be airtight or things will go very poorly, that takes time.” Stiles explains, and Arthur seems to understand.

“You want us to share land with the Fae.” He says, neither upset or happy.

“Bingo.” Stiles points to him, “I think we should take a few days and write up an air tight contract, we need to require the return of those taken and refuse the right to take others, but we have to offer them something, an intrinsic tie to the land and some property of their own.” They rush back to The Coven’s homes, and gather the elders to get to work writing.

“Is everything prepared?” Stiles asks, and Carla nods. “I’ll grow the flower, but you need to negotiate, and don’t let them dodge your questions, the Fae’s are masters of untruthful truths. Do not welcome them to the territory until everything is signed.”

“Thank you for your help Spark Stilinski.” Carla inclines her head to him, and her coven mates copy. “We would not have had a chance without you. We are in your debt.” He smiles amicably about her, and then holds out his hand, in the blink of an eye a flower blossoms in his palm.

“We meet again Spark.” Rosarki says from just to his left.

“Coven Leader Rona has an offer for you Royal Rosarki.” Stiles says, it’s a guess, and therefore a risk. Rosarki grins broadly.

“Brilliant Little Spark.” Rosarki says, strangely fond, and Stiles can’t help but smile. He steps back and allows Carla to step forward. Jacobi latches onto his leg and he lifts the kid onto his hip and watches as Carla begins negotiations.

“I am the Head of the Rona Coven and my Coven and I have prepared a contract that would benefit both parties.” She says, exactly as rehearsed. Rosarki smiles, teeth needle sharp and there’s nothing human about them now.

“What could you offer us?” Rosarki asks, and the answer is easy.

“A tie to the land.” Carla says confidently. Negotiation’s are swift, Stiles had been sure to include things that the Fae would want and need in the contract and in less than an hour people begin stumbling out of tree’s to thin, and with dark circles under their eyes but alive and mostly unharmed.

“Daddy!” Jacobi cries, and Stiles struggles to get the kids feet on the ground before he launches himself out of his arms. In that moment Rosarki is behind him.

“Would you stay here, Little Spark?” Rosarki asks, and a part of Stiles is tempted. Here he talked and people listened. Here he got to help people without bashing his head through a Derek shaped wall. Here there was someone, a Fae but still, who looked at him like he was beautiful.

“I’m tempted.” He admits, honesty is still the best policy with Fae. “I must return to my pack though; I may visit sometime.”

“I would like that.” Rosarki purrs.

“We all would.” Carla says, and a few of the others nod. “Will you at least stay for the celebration?”

“I could hardly pass up a chance to party with the Fae.” Stiles says, and Rosarki’s needle sharp teeth flash at him in some semblance of a smile. “Let’s party!” Of course, as soon as the words leave his mouth his phone rings.

“Your Alpha?” Carla asks, and he nods, stepping away from the group. “Thank you again for your help.”

“My pleasure, best of luck.” He says, and then presses the phone to his ear a silencing spell leaving his lips. “Derek.” He greets.

“Where are you?” Derek says, always one to demand information rather than ask for it.

“Mount Katahdin.” Stiles replies dryly. Derek huffs angrily and familiar frustration settles under Stiles skin. “Where are you?”

“Beacon Hills, where you should be.” Derek says, and Stiles is sick and tired of that tone of voice. He isn’t stupid, and he isn’t a child anymore.

“Derek, I left because I felt like you and your pack consistently disrespected me, underestimated me, and overall treated me like dirt on the bottom of their shoes.” Stiles explains, words carefully measured. “I plan to come back, but right now you’re making that seem more and more distasteful.”

“We’re your pack.” Derek grits out and Stiles wants to scream until it get’s through his thick skull. He takes a deep breath and collects himself before he replies.

“You are.” Stiles agrees. “Yet in the few days I’ve spent here I’ve been treated far better than I have in the last months at home.”” Derek let’s out a whine, and Stiles can’t help but soften. “Derek people in the supernatural community respect me. Your pack treats me like shit and so do you. I negotiated a treaty with the Fae this week, I made strong ties with a coven on the other side of the continent, and talking to you has been the worst part of my week.”

“You negotiated with the Fae.” Derek grits out, and Stiles feels something in him crack, and the bonds that tie him to the pack strain just a little bit harder.

“Of course, that’s all you hear.” Stiles says, and there’s so little fight left in him. “I’m going to help a clan in Wyoming Derek, I’ll see you when I see you.”

“I thought you were only going to be gone another week.” Derek growls, and Stiles can picture him eyes alpha red. He presses the end call button, and feels tears well up in his eyes.

“You could stay with me.” Rosarki offers, and it’s a little softer this time. Stiles smiles at the Fae through his tears.

“The pack’s home.” Stiles says, by way of explanation. Rosarki looks out at the forest.

“Home can change.” He says, and the loyal part of Stiles screams in outrage at the mere thought. The part that would give anything, has given anything, for his pack.

“I know.” He admits. “I’ll see you sometime Rosarki.”

Derek

Derek roars, unthinking of his neighbors. His pack was doing well, things were finally going well and now Stiles is gone. He roars until there’s no more air in his lungs and then he sucks in a greedy gulp of air and roars again. A slow clap interrupts him and he looks up to see Peter leaning against the wall.

“Very impressive, quite manly.” Peter remarks, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Derek growls at him, his shift fighting for control.

“Not the time to test me Peter.” Derek says, and his claws come out without his permission.

“The maybe it’s time someone tell you a harsh truth instead.” Peter remarks. “I like Stiles, and your treatment of him is abysmal. You have no right to be mad when you have pushed him out of your pack.” Derek’s heart feels like it’s going to leap out of his chest.

“He’s still pack.” He insists, and Peter shakes his head knowing that Derek missed the point entirely.

“For how much longer?” He asks, and then disappears out the door. It isn’t until he’s gone that Derek stops to think about what he said. Why did Stiles leave, when all Derek had done was try and protect him.


	2. Pack like Prison

Derek couldn’t understand what was driving Stiles away. Their pack was strong and stable for the first time in years, it had been months since a threat had caused them any real fear or harm. Why now? Everything was better now, so why was it now that Stiles wanted to leave, it just didn’t make any sense.

He must be missing something. He’s so lost in thought he barely notices the sound of the elevator coming up. He notices the footsteps as they approach the door, and glances up half expecting to find Stiles.

“Honey I’m home!” Erica calls out in a sing songy voice as she throws the door open. The smell of her perfume mixed with the scent of Boyd wafts into the apartment as she dashes forward to claim the love seat for the pair of them. Normally Stiles is the first person to arrive at pack meetings.

“Hi Derek.” Boyd greets, following behind Erica at a much slower pace. His presence as solid and stead as ever.

“Hi Boyd.” He greets, and they don’t ask where Stiles is, which means they must already know he’s gone. Erica bounces back up from the love seat and grabs onto Boyd’s hand.

“We’re taking the loveseat.” She announces, wiggling her eyebrows at both of them. Derek raises an eyebrow at her, unimpressed. She arrived just in time to claim her seat because not a moment later Derek’s ears pick up the sound of voices outside the door.

“-not watching the notebook again tonight.” Scott’s voice is saying in a tone that has become all to familiar. Derek tries not to take sides when the betas argue but he is not in the mood to watch The Notebook again. Lydia won’t agree with him though.

“Yes, we are.” She says, with the conviction of someone who has won this argument on a dozen different occasions. Peter slinks down the stairs to settle in his usual spot as the others push the door open.

“No.” Derek says, making eye contact with Lydia. She stops short, holding his gaze for a moment before letting out a small frustrated sound.

“Okay, fine.” Lydia says, and this is easily the quickest anyone has ever won this argument, himself included. “We can watch Dear John then.” Everyone groans, but Derek just allows his frustration to bleed out a low growl escaping him.

“Someone else pick the movie.” He orders, giving the woman a hard glare. She shrugs, as if unbothered but remains silent as the others discuss options.

“We could watch Frozen 2.” Kira offers, and she’s such a sweet kid that the last of Derek’s frustration fades in the face of her.

“No, no, no.” Jackson says, clearly not as affected. “Fast and the Furious, the newest one. That’s all it takes for the entire pack to devolve into an argument. Somethings missing though, there’s no voice calling out for Star Wars because ‘god damn it guys Scott still hasn’t seen it’. No one is asking about their missing pack member, which is the only reason Derek doesn’t bother to announce his absence. Stiles must have already told them.

“Not that this isn’t fun,” Peter drawls, in the voice he uses when he wants to stir the pot. “But, where’s the cute one?” Everyone looks confused for a moment, and maybe they didn’t know.

“Right here.” Jackson calls out, mostly on joking instinct gesturing to himself. Peter looks him over once and then shakes his head not gracing the boy with a verbal response.

“Wait, where is Stiles?” Scott says, and how did he not know. How did he fail to question Stiles absence if he didn’t know? Everyone looks around the room as if expecting the young spark to pop out from behind the couch and shout ‘Boo!’.

“He’s late.” Lydia scoffs.” He should take our pack time more seriously.” Derek can’t help but agree with her. This was pack night; Stiles should be here not off galivanting with a coven of witches. He ignores the part of his brain that rattles off every reason one of the other’s has missed a pack meeting for things ranging from hair appointments, to job interviews, to oversleeping.

“Seriously.” Jackson agrees. “What could he be doing? It’s not like he has a hot date.” What was it that was driving Stiles away? Derek just couldn’t figure it out. “He must be home playing a little five on one.” Jackson makes a lewd gesture and Erica snorts.

“You think he’s home mixing a batch?” She giggles at her own joke, and Isaac giggles with her. “Feeding the ducks? Distributing some free literature?” Scott attempts to stifle his own glass.

“Ew, gross.” Scott says, although he’s failing to hold his giggles in. “That’s my best friend.”

“You guys have seen Letter Kenny?” Kira asks, bouncing in her seat and just like that the entire pack forgets Stiles is missing. “Can we watch that?”

“Yeah!” Erica cheers, kicking her feet up onto Boyd’s lap as she settles in. With no obvious disagreement it’s decided.

Next thing Derek knows they’re watching a vaguely homophobic seeming Canadian comedy show. Kira claims that later in the show they handle things a lot better, but Derek isn’t sure he’s willing to give it enough of a chance to find out.

“Okay, wait masturbation jokes aside, where is Stiles?” Scott asks about halfway through the episode as if he’s only now remembering that his best friend is not here. Derek opens his mouth to explain.

“He probably just forgot.” Allison shrugs as if this is normal. Stiles does not forget pack meetings, nor does he forget birthdays, religious holidays, or the couples anniversary’s and even Scott and Allison can’t keep track of their anniversary anymore.

“Yeah, probably.” Scott agrees, settling back in his seat. Derek feels a little dumbstruck when he realizes that the pack doesn’t know Stiles at all. It’s starting to make sense to him, Stiles leaving, and it makes his wolf whine.

As the episode is coming to an end, the burly guy in plaid dropping into a fighting stance, Derek’s phone rings. He scrambles to pick it up, practically jumping out of his chair and heading towards the kitchen.

“This is Derek.” He says, waiting to hear Stiles voice, rambling out an apology for missing pack night. The pack grows suspiciously silent and he knows they’re all attempting to listen in.

“Alpha Hale?” A feminine voice asks, and that’s definitely not Stiles. He grunts an affirmative. “This is Coven Leader Rona, of the Rona Coven of Mount Katahdin.” She sounds pleasant enough, but her words strike fear into Derek’s heart. Stiles went to her, alone, and now she’s calling. Suddenly all Derek can picture is Stiles Dead or dying, bleeding out at the hands of whatever monster he failed to protect Stiles from.

“Yes?” He asks, and he knows his heart is attempting to race out of his chest. Someone’s paused the show and multiple sets of concerned eyes are tracking his pacing form across the room.

“Hello Alpha Hale, I just wanted to call and formally thank you for sending Spark Stilinski to aide us in finding the missing members of our coven and our community.” She explains, and Derek breathes a sigh of relief. The pack relaxes too, and Derek catches sight of Jackson mouthing the words ‘Spark Stilinski’ out of the corner of his eye. “He was a massive help; we never would have been able to recover everyone alive without him.” 

“I’m glad you were able to recover all of your people safely.” Derek says, slightly stilted. He can hear the others snickering and just barely refrains from gesturing for them to cut it out.

“Before he left Spark Stilinski mentioned a potential alliance between your pack and my coven.” Coven leader Rona explained. “We owe him the lives and continued safety of our people and would be honored to partner with any pack he’s in.” Derek had been attempting to make alliances for months and was struggling to find anyone on the east coast willing to ally themselves with a Californian pack.

“Yes, we would be interested in an alliance.” Derek says, and he feels uncomfortable, and unprepared. “Provided both sides can reach agreeable terms. Do you have an alliance written up?” Derek shoots a glare at his giggling beta’s.

“We do, we’ll email that over.” Carla says, and Derek can practically hear her nodding her head. “Let Spark Stilinski know that we appreciate all his help, and Arthur and Rosarki miss him already.”

“Of course.” Derek agrees, despite having no idea who either of those people are. “We look forward to working with you.” The line goes dead.

“What the fuck?” Jackson asks, and the pack bursts out into unrestrained laughter.

“Oh,” Isaac manages to pull himself together for a moment, pinky sticking up into the air. “Spark Stilinski.” He says with a ridiculous British accent.

“What an honor to work with you.” Jackson says, mimicking the same voice, and then they both devolve back into giggles. Stiles is across the country securing alliances for them and they’re laughing at him. This isn’t how pack should be. Pack should love and respect each other.

“Are you still wondering why he left nephew?” Peter asks, sidling up behind him. Derek looks around at the giggling betas and truthfully, he understands why Stiles would want to leave this. The room falls silent in the moment where Derek doesn’t defend them.

“Stiles didn’t leave.” Scott says, sounding unconvinced himself.

“He wouldn’t leave because of us, right Derek?” Jackson says, and he’s trying so hard not to sound like he doesn’t know the answer.

“We’re his pack.” Derek dodges the question, and Peter glances around the room.

“Funny, normally a pack supports your achievements.” Peter remarks, and he’s heading for the door. “This one though,” He pauses, looking back at them. “You all seem more inclined to tear him down.”

The door shuts behind him with a heavy slam, and the loft is consumed by silence.

“Did he really leave the pack?” Scott asks, voice small. Derek looks at his beta’s, the group of assholes with issues that he chooses to have as his pack.

“Not yet.” He says, because it’s the only answer he has. “His bond is strained though, and when he left, he told me he was going somewhere people would respect him.” It hurts to admit that, and the smell of grief consumes the room. 

“He’s pack, how could he just leave like that?” Isaac asks, and the others all look to Derek for answers. Derek doesn’t have them, but Kira seems to.

“He’s pack, maybe he can leave like that, because we’ve been treating him like this.” Kira says softly, and she doesn’t exclude herself. “He’s the butt of the joke more than anyone else. Derek when did he leave?”

“A week ago.” Derek admits, not meeting their eyes.

“Scott your best friends been gone a week and you didn’t notice.” Jackson sneers, Lydia slaps him on the arm. Everything is a moment away from devolving into a fight. 

“None of us noticed.” Scott says, and he looks down feeling guilty. “A whole week.”

“Peter did.” Allison says, and isn’t that a kick in the nuts. Out of all of them Peter is the only one who noticed Stiles was missing. The only one who cared or understood.

“Why?” Someone asks, and Derek can’t help but wonder too. Why did this happen? Why did he leave? Why did they treat him like this? None of those questions were important though.

“How do we get him back?” Lydia asks, and the worst part is Derek doesn’t have an answer, none of them do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been binge watching Letter Kenny lately it does have some issues with homophobia especially in the first episode, but I found myself enjoying a lot of the later episodes.
> 
> This chapter has now (1/27) been edited to ensure that it meets the quality standards I want to set for this story. I will be editing chapter 3 as well before posting any more for this story.


	3. Clan like Family

The Roberts Clan was young as far as vampire clans went, the sire Jason Roberts was only around a hundred and fifty.

“Welcome to Wyoming Spark Stilinski.” A young man greeted, and he was already breaking half the myths Stiles had read about vampires. His skin was dark and tinged slightly blue. “I’m second to Clan head Jason Roberts. You may call me Jones.”

“A pleasure to meet you Jones.” Stiles says, smiling widely at the vampire. The Roberts Clan helped to run the local hospital, using their wealth to take care of their community and territory, and their connections to avoid feeding on live humans. “You can call me Stiles.”

“Of course, Spark Stiles.” Jones said formally, and there was a hint of mischief in his eyes. Stiles decides right then that he likes Jones.

“I like you.” He says, and Jones gestures for him to follow before heading up the farmhouse. “Mind if I ask a few questions?” Stiles trails along behind him.

“Shoot.” Jones says, and Stiles beams.

“How often do you have to feed? How old are you? Is that rude? What’s it like being a vampire? What do your teeth look like?” He rattles off, and Jones huffs a laugh.

“One at a time Sir.” He says, and Stiles nearly stops dead in his tracks. No one ever calls him Sir.

“Um, if it’s not rude what do your teeth look like?” Stiles asks, and Jones smiles at him baring personally normal teeth. “No, like your vampire teeth.” Stiles explains, and before his eyes fangs drop down over the top of Jones’ human teeth.

“Just like that.” Jones explains around a layer of needle-sharp teeth that take up his whole mouth. Stiles whistles lowly.

“That’s a hell of a bite dude.” He remarks, and Jones laughs. “How often do you feed?” It’s nice talking to someone who is both able and willing to answer his questions.

“Normally a couple of times a week, but we can go about a month without feeding before we lose ourselves.” He explains, smiling at a woman who looks a lot like him, same eyes.

“Thank you for coming Spark Stilinski.” She says, “I hope you can help us understand what’s plaguing our town.” Their emails said that people in town were growing sick, and falling into comas with clear medical explanation.

“I’ll do my best.” He promises, because he can’t promise any more.

“Spark Stilinski!” A large man greets, and based on his presence alone Stiles has to assume he’s Jason Roberts.

“Sire Roberts I presume.” Stiles greets, and the big man claps him on the back with carefully measured strength. It’s nice having a supernatural that’s aware of the damage they can do when touching Stiles.

“Call me Jason.” He says, and Stiles can tell already Jason is a friendly bear of a man.

“Well then you can call me Stiles.” He says, and the next thing he knows he’s being swept up into a hug. He hugs back on instinct and for a moment feels so incredibly safe it’s indescribable.

“Let’s get you inside and fed, and then we can see if we can figure out what’s going on.” Jason says, and then starts explaining about how young Robbie was studying to be a chef before he became a vampire, and despite vampire’s inability to properly taste food he still ran a nice restaurant in town.

It was clear that Jason cared a lot about his clan, and he was proud of them. Stiles wished his Alpha could be this proud of him.

\---

Lydia gestures to the white board with her ruler, and Derek may be a werewolf but he can feel a headache coming on.

“This is our ten-step plan to win Stiles back.” Lydia announces, and while Jackson looks slightly bored no one protests. “Step one is that we let him know we miss him.”

“If I text him saying I miss him he’s gonna think I’m possessed.” Jackson points out, which if you ask Derek is exactly the problem. Scott growls, and Lydia rolls her eyes.

“You’re going to text him, or else.” Lydia said, with a look that implies retribution if Jackson argues.

“Fine, I’ll text Stilinski.” Jackson says, pouting. Boyd raises his hand slowly, looking slightly afraid.

“Yes Boyd?” Lydia paints her ruler at him, and Boyd looks threatened.

“I don’t have Stiles number.” He admits, and Erica smacks his arm.

“What do you mean you don’t have Stiles number?” She hisses, and Derek was wondering the same thing. They’re pack, they need a way to contact each other.

“It never came up?” Boyd defends himself, arms crossed over his chest. Derek definitely has a headache now.

“How did it never come up?” Scott says, voice edging into a shout, and next thing Derek knows everyone is yelling over eachother. Derek definitely has a headache.

\---

“Robbie, my dude this is amazing.” Stiles says around a mouthful of Pierogi. “Did you go with Pierogi because I’m polish?”

“I thought you might like it.” Robbie says, ducking his head. Stiles beams at him wondering if vampires can blush.

“I love it, I haven’t had pierogi’s since I was little.” His mom used to make pierogi’s all the time, and he’s missed them. Eating them now, even though they don’t taste like hers, is nice.

“I’m so glad you like it.” Robbie says, and he’s almost as young as he looks, as he became a vampire only a year ago and he’s 19.

“Thank you, guys now I’m open to working while I eat.” Stiles says, but Jason is having none of it.

“Nonsense my boy, no one has died yet and you’ve had a long journey. Eat and then we can work.” Jason says, once again patting him on the shoulder. Stiles smiles, and relaxes into his chair.

“Thank you, Jason.” Stiles can’t help but feel the love that Jason has for the people around him. It’s a pleasure to see.

\---

“Everyone shut up!” Kira shouts, and the room falls silent. No one expected Kira of all people to yell. “This is not about us; this is about Stiles.” She says, and Derek smiles at her. “He feels unappreciated, and that is our fault. So how do we let him know we appreciate him?”

“We thank him for things?” Scott sounds completely unsure of himself. How Derek got cursed with a pack full of idiots he does not know.

“Yes, Erica what’s something you can thank Stiles for?” Kira asks, turning to Stiles’ Catwoman. 

“Why am I being put on the spot?” Erica asks, looking slightly panicked. Boyd wraps an arm around her and shoots a glare towards Kira.

“What you don’t have anything to thank Stilinski for?” Jackson scoffs. “I thought he was your batman.” Derek is sick and tired of that tone of voice already.

“Okay you think of something to thank Stiles for.” Erica says, poking at Jackson’s chest. Boyd pulls her back in before a fight can break out which Derek appreciates. Cleaning blood off the couch is such a nuisance.

“Stilinski doesn’t even like me.” Jackson throws his hands up and stands up ready to storm out.

“Why should he?” Scott calls at Jackson’s back. “It’s not like you’re ever nice to him.”

“Well, what about you?” Lydia asks Scott, and the boy tilts his head like a confused puppy. “You’ve been laughing at every joke Jackson made at Stiles expense, what kind of best friend are you?”

“A shitty one okay!” Scott has tears forming in his eyes now. Derek really feels like he’s lost complete control of the situation, if he ever had any.

\---

“Let’s get down to business.” Jason says, once Stiles has finished eating, Stiles can’t help himself.

“To defeat the Huns.” He sings, and Robbie’s voice joins his causing the both of them to crack up. “I like you.” Robbie informs him.

“Thank you.” Stiles does a mock curtsey, and then turns towards Jason. “Now all of those affected do wind up at your hospital, do you have any new staff?” Jason beams at him.

“We have hired a few new nurses lately, and one doctor.” Jason explains, and there’s trust and relief there. “What are you thinking?” Jason pulls out some hiring paperwork and hands it over.

“There are a few different creatures that can cause someone to fall into a sleep, most of them feed off of that sleep in some way, and need proximity in order to do that.” He explains, eyes skimming over the documents in front of him. “Other than that, it could be some sort of sleeping spell, but that would be much harder to track back to a person.”

“What kind of things feed off sleep?” Robbie asks, and Stiles flips through a few pages, jotting down names and dates as he goes.

“Well, a Djinn can feed off of a person while sleeping. Baku are known to eat nightmares, just to name a couple.” Stiles explains, grabbing his phone up and texting off his list to his dad.

I need some background checks

Please and thank you

Also love you dad

“What can you tell me about those affected?” He asks, turning to Jason, a pen and a stack of notecards in hand. It’s time to make a murder map.

\---

“That’s it.” Derek growls, standing up from his spot by the kitchen counter. “Enough.”

“You’re the reason he left!” Jackson shouts, gesturing wildly around the room. Scott is still in tears, and the others aren’t far behind.

“I said enough.” Derek growls, raising his voice slightly.

“If it wasn’t for you being an asshole this never would have happened.” Erica threw back, and Jackson glared at her.

“I’m always an asshole.” Jackson says, as if that’s a defense. Derek is done.

“Enough!” He says, the alpha roar taking over his voice. Finally everyone falls silent, leaving Derek breathing heavily with red eyes in the center of the room. “Enough.” His voice comes out barely a whisper.

“Sorry Alpha.” The room choruses. Derek nods slowly.

“Now what?” Scott asks, and he sounds small and young. Derek wishes he had the answers, but he doesn’t.

“Now, we do better.” Derek says, with a well of confidence he doesn’t feel. “First we finalize our treaty with the Rona Coven. Then when Stiles comes home, we show him we appreciate him.” He doesn’t know how to do that; all he knows is that this pack will not survive without Stiles.

“Yeah, yeah.” The pack agrees. “let’s do that.” There’s hope now where there wasn’t before and they look to him with a trust he doesn’t think he deserves.

“What did they say in their email?” Lydia asks, and Derek let’s himself hope with them. Stiles is mad, but he’s still pack. He’ll come back. He has to.

**Author's Note:**

> Rosarki's name was derived from the word Rosarch as in Rosarch's ink blot test in which a person's interpretation is supposed to tell you something about them, the idea was that Rosarki's appearance is ambiguous both in gender, and in how human they appear.


End file.
